One Last Marvel

Written in collaboration with Cross C.

A few months later…

Sunlight, filtered through the vibranium latticework that served as the palace window, dappled across Carol's toned abdomen. She stretched languorously, the dull ache in her core a familiar thrum after a night tangled in Mark's sheets. It wasn't the bone-deep exhaustion of a brawl with Thanos, but a pleasant, lingering soreness that spoke of his boundless stamina and… well, his endowment. A wry smile touched her lips. Mark, for all his newfound power, had an almost comical enthusiasm for life and his women. The phrase 'young, dumb, and full of cum' came to mind, but laced with a surprising tenderness. It wasn’t just that his nuts were the size of medicine balls, her heart fluttered at just the image of his face… and the fact that it felt right to feel happy unnerved her.

Despite the opulent surroundings, a sliver of unease gnawed at the edges of her contentment.

But what a level of contentment! Lying on her back with the fuzzy African heat dance around the room, with no responsibilities or obligations to attend to all day. She was well aware of the magnificent sight she cut, should any distant person happen to be peering into the palace grounds from the many glorious foliage-covered skyscrapers of this technologically advanced African paradise: the legendary Captain Concubine laid out like a banquet for ravenous eyes to devour.

A golden metal loincloth, polished to a mirror sheen, circles her hips, secured by a chain that delicately clinks with every move. A ribbon cascaded from the chain, its colors – a bold red, a vibrant blue, and a touch of cosmic gold – a not so subtle homage to her previous superheroic life and career.

Above, a cuirass of the same tinted vibranium conformed to her powerful back and sides, leaving the vast majority of her creamy body gloriously exposed. The polished metal caught the light, accentuating the sensual curves of her chest with a mesmerizing gleam. The cuirass plunged daringly low at the neckline, revealing the expansive expanse of her ample bosom, a bold testament to her unyielding strength and self-assuredness.

Though it was not her preference, Carol wore this revealing attire because it pleased Mark.

Because it pleased Mark…

How nostalgic. She’d fought that line of thinking so hard when she first got here, yet now she could think of nothing but making that lovely face of his beam. The young megalomaniac ruler of Wakanda, the mutant who had rearranged her mind to suit his whims...

Ding dong!

Stretching out one last time on the bed, Carol began floating off her perfect sheets and towards her apartment door. Barely managing to move from the lying position before opening it up.

The kind servant girl beamed at the blonde, instantly handing over the tray of two extravagant and colourful drinks she had been carrying, “Ahh, you’re an absolute doll, Edwina. Thank you.”

“Please, Ms. Carol. I still ask you to call me Jarvis.”

She couldn’t help but wince, “Oh, I don’t feel com-”

“My King insisted you Avengers be treated by your favourite 'American' butler. It may have been a simple joke to him, but my supreme commander gave me a new name, and my heart dances every time I can use it. Please.” Her eyes looked so genuine, so full of love, it was hard to deny her request.

“R-right… thanks, Jarvis.” She smiled awkwardly, continuing to slurp down the first of her two alchoholic drinks, “Um, and how’s the baby doing?”

Jarvis stroked her stomach's protruding lump with a happy smile. “I fear that he has his father’s tenacity. Kicking as hard as Mr. Logan’s massive hairy phallus pumped me full of superior mutant seed. Have you been seeded yet?”

“Hope so, and with how Mark treats this hole? I wouldn’t be surprised.” She sighed wistfully at her pussy, remembering the sheer number of loads from last night, “It’s why I’m pounding some of your amazing cocktails before I have to switch to mocktails… by the way, speaking of pounding… do you mind…?” Turning around, the great Captain Concubine slowly stuck her rear out towards the other woman. A longing expression on her face as the slightly red and overtly round peach begged.

Jarvis smiled, then with all her strength spanked Carol's bare rump, hard.

“Mmm!!!” The blonde groaned, taking a huge slurp from her straw, imagining she was sucking something thicker as the pleasure overwhelmed her entire body. Eyes rolling back, toes curling, all the works.

Shaking her hand from the stinging sensation, Jarvis bowed on her way out. “We are always here to serve you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, Ms. Carol. Glory to Markanda.”

With a casual wave behind her, Carol floated away with her drink. Looking like a cartoon character smelling a pie with how giddy she looked.

Who’d have thought she’d be forming friendships in a dictatorship?

There was a time she would oppose it more, fight the ‘good fight’ against an oppressor, but now there was no fight left in her for revolution. Mark was the truth. Mark was the one she fought for now.

Seeing him happy brought her joy, this was an iron-clad facet of her personality. It wasn't mind control or hypnosis or any sort of magic that **** her to live to see Mark's delight at her clothing choice or when she agreed with his plans or defended him against those who doubted him. Her mind had been reshaped, remoulded until it was clear her deepest desire was to see her lover succeed in any way possible.

That wasn’t the only thing that changed in her mind. On a whim, Mark had changed some of Carol’s sensations. Spanking now felt AMAZING. Any hand to ass contact made the ex-Captain Marvel wetter than Namor’s liquor cabinet. Though if you grabbed her and bent her over your knee, she’d sound more like Black Cat in heat from how much she’d cum. It’s why she got the help to spank her whenever she could, the booze just felt like extra buzz.

Taking her second drink after quickly finishing the first, she floated over to the window of her apartment to look out to the plenteous city. Leaning on the window sill with her still sensitive butt cushions.

Her toned glutes were entirely exposed by the outfit, with her only covering at the front over her sex. Her butt was now in full view at all times, highlighting her muscular ass-cheeks and strong thighs. It was embarrassing at first, but she'd soon gone native, recognizing that the lack of covering meant her holes were constantly available for use by a certain young stud's gigantic royal slab of meaty, throbbing cock.

Mark. Her King. His happiness, a mantra echoing in the deepest recesses of her mind, a truth undeniable. He'd woven it into her very being, a tapestry of desire and loyalty. The X-Men, once her comrades, now knelt before him, their minds reshaped by his touch. Wakanda, a jewel of African innovation, rechristened Markanda, thrummed with a new purpose – to birth a dynasty of super-powered offspring. Wrong. A dissonant note in the symphony of her adoration. Yet, the thought of his approval, that lopsided grin that turned her insides to molten lava, sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

He wasn't cruel, not in the traditional sense. Her days were filled with freedom, a gilded cage overlooking breathtaking vistas. Escape? The very thought sent a pang of guilt through her. He needed her, his powerful Captain Marvel, a shield against those who'd try to dismantle his utopia. Even before his touch, she'd held a begrudging admiration for him.

A wry smile touched her lips as she recalled Mark's confession, whispered quietly to her the night after her final submission into Captain Concubine. The stolen glances at an Avengers poster back in his cramped bedroom that Ororo had rescued him from, the **** yearning he'd admitted to. It was almost comical, the image of this all-powerful king, once a "normal guy" fumbling in front of a poster with… well, with the kind of equipment that required beach towels after nutting, not tissues. But the memory also ignited a different kind of heat – a visceral reminder of his raw power, his skill, the way he could leave her breathless and begging for more.

Mark, the King, a powerhouse in the bedroom, his touch a wildfire that ignited a primal desire she hadn't known existed… was still a human. Only lowering his guard to the few women he trusted. Carol being one of the lucky few.

“Did you seriously drink before your mission?” A voice echoed in her mind.

She slurped the last of the drink like she was able to hide it from the internal words, “Just a little. You’d be surprised how many supervillians 'Captain Marvel' used to take down while being a little bit buzzed~” She chuckled back, especially when she heard a psychic sigh.

“This is the first of hopefully many liberation missions, Captain Concubine. I hope you don’t fail Markanda as badly as you failed The Avengers.”

Though the grilling was intense, Carol always knew how to take criticism on the chin, “I failed against the greatest power in the universe, Jean. I’m still the strongest weapon Markanda has, with an amazing wingman, might I add~”

“Cute. Though I think you just hurt Emma’s feelings. She’s thinking you’re the most replaceable.”

“Does she want me to kiss it better?” Carol joked back, glad to hear some soft giggles from the redhead. “I’m ready to fly on your signal, Lady Grey.”

Looking around the empty opulent bedchamber, Carol couldn't deny a strange contentment. It was a much nicer place than Avengers Tower, at least she knew she was being watched here rather than just the feeling of Tony perving on her. Sure, it wasn't the life she'd chosen – the Avengers, the fight for freedom. But a part of her, a part twisted by Mark's touch, buzzed with a strange satisfaction. He was happy, and by extension, so was she. It was a twisted logic, she knew that, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable.

Mark had been upfront about everything. The way he'd worshipped her from afar, used pictures… the way he saw her now, not just as Captain Marvel, but as his personal Captain Concubine, his Queen. The very thought of the massive portrait gracing the opposite wall – her, captured in vibrant hues, forever kneeling at his feet – sent a jolt of heat through her. It was degrading, yes, but also very arousing. Mark liked his women submissive, and a submissive Carol, it seemed, was a very happy Carol.

How could she not be happy? She’d finally realised the pressures of being a superhero just wasn’t worth it. Being an idol, being popular, being a role model for girl’s everywhere… it wasn’t for her. A life free of complications, free of leadership and vampire invasions, free… free. Happily ever after was here, and it looked just like how her and Rhodey talked about. Tropical climate with all the long sighs and juicy drinks she wanted.

It wouldn’t cost her much, just a few missions to help the utopian nation that took her in.

“Cerebro is ready, no planes in you way, and she’s just logged on to her favorite fanfiction website. You’ve got a clear line to New Jersey, Captain Concubine.”

“Roger that, Jean. I’m off.”

Carol left the floor after one final chug of her cocktail, slowly leaving out of her open window to the Markandan skyline before picking up speed. Her navigator psychically guiding her exactly the direction to fly. Keeping a measured pace as the barrier that protected their fair city opened just enough for her to fly through.

And then she was off.

A bolt of light fired away from the country like a bullet. Keeping low enough to the ground to not create any breaks in the clouds, yet still creating a strong breeze for the many people that she passed overhead. Soon reaching a magnificent blue ocean that stretched far and wide. A wonderful sea breeze that Carol experienced at Mach 10 while crossing the boundless expanse.

No one reacted to her, no one looked up, a calculated subtle nod in their heads through Cerebro to briefly ignore the light in the sky. Making the golden woman a silent undetectable bullet.

As Carol flew, she had plenty of time to think. The King's latest request echoed in her mind – ‘Go get that sexy little associate of yours. Kamala, wasn’t it?’. The young Ms. Marvel, her protégé, her friend. A dull ache pulsed beneath the manufactured affection, a flicker of the hero Carol once was. But that flicker was quickly extinguished by a surge of warmth. Mark's happiness. Mark, with his boyish grin and power that rivaled gods. He'd saved her, after all, claimed her from the gnawing loneliness of space. And those nights...oh, those nights. His touch, a storm that reshaped her desires, a primal pleasure that defied the sanitized yearning he'd instilled.

He deserved them all, this king of a twisted utopia. The hero within her whimpered, a faint echo of a bygone fight. But the programmed loyalty, the undeniable pleasure of his touch, it drowned it out. Stealing Kamala, turning her over to his mind-bending touch…wrong, undeniably wrong. Yet, the thought of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when she brought him a "gift," a new plaything for his ever-expanding harem…a delicious wave of anticipation washed over her.

Kamala. A bright spark, a kindred spirit. Stealing her future, twisting her mind… a betrayal. Yet, wouldn't Mark make her happy? Wouldn't she blossom under his touch, discover a depth of pleasure she never knew existed? The hero in Carol whimpered, the woman in her purred.

The decision hung heavy, a bitter pill coated in a seductive sheen. The weight of Mark's happiness, the promise of Kamala's… rewritten… bliss.

There was no option but to happily comply.

“You’re nearing your destination, Carol. Remember to stay vigilant. We don’t know if The Sentinels have started tracking you yet.”

Ah yes, humanity’s awful robotic saviors. There was more than one reason why Carol had been chosen to helm the secret task of stealing Mark’s new toys. With how many shows of **** Mark had streamed to the world, Global Leaders had gotten very restless on the mutant menace. Programs of racists that had been disregarded in the past for their cruelty were now publicly funded and supported by the common man. Not hard to carve the argument in their hearts that mutants are here to replace them when one big dicked teen had taken over Wakanda and defeated the Avengers.

Only the threat OF Mark had deterred another atrocity. After hearing first hand accounts of mutant **** camps, the horrible time travel futures, and Genosha, Mark had changed his tune. He’d gone on record saying that if any mutant was harmed, he’d personally lead the charge against the rest of the world.

As such, only a mutant registration act had been enforced.

While Magik and Wanda had managed to save many mutants through teleportation, they were only capable of so much. It was one thing saving the Morlocks from the sewers, it was another when a single mutant was bullied at school. Sentinels now flew overhead, scanning for unregistered mutants not complying with these laws.

Carol wasn’t a mutant, but she hoped to save as many as she could. Starting with the young girl who she’d helped inspire to become a hero in the first place, the girl in need of a new master...

---

It had always been a dream of Kamala’s to have Carol Danvers fly into her room and recruit her. But now that dream had become a nightmarish reality.

Panting. Panicked eyes and terrified gasps escaped the girl’s mouth as soon as she realised she wasn’t alone in her room. Looking up at Carol from her desk, wanting to run, or scream, or attack the woman she knew was an enemy, but could not.

“I’m glad you kept the name, Ms. Marvel.” Said the hero, floating down to land on the floor, taking a casual seat across from her on the bed while admiring the room briefly. There was far less posters of her from what she remembered, but Carol could still see a few spatterings of Captain Marvel around. “It’s good to see you again, Kamala.”

“Why… why can’t I scream?” stammered Kamala, still unable to use either fight nor flight reflexes attacking her brain.

Carol couldn’t help but be a little proud of her student’s response, “Do you remember Cerebro? The X-Men left it behind, but rebuilt it in Markanda from scratch even stronger thanks to Beast, Forge, Shuri… and now Jean Grey is plugged into it, and into you.” She explained so calmly, so casually, it could almost settle Kamala's heart, had it not been so horrifying. “Is this your luggage?”

The panic rose up again as the eighteen year old realised that there was in fact a full suitcase at the foot of her bed. “W-what…? When did I…?”

“Plugged in, Kamala.” Carol reminded, tapping her head, “I’m here to take you to your new home.”

“No… Carol… please…” Quiet whimpers, trying to fight back against an omega level mutant but to no avail, “This… this isn’t you!”

“Afraid it is, kiddo. I’m Captain Concubine now, so we’ll have to update your posters and fanfics. I hear you’ve seen my transition a few hundred times now~” Kamala’s eyes went wide, a blush on her face while she babbled incoherent words. “Before you ask, no. Jean never influenced you to masturbate to me. That was all my dirty minded protégé, hehe.” Mortified, Kamala didn’t even want to scream any more, she just wanted to use her powers to shrink away. “I enjoyed the stories you wrote though. That one story about you saving me from Mark was particularly sweet, but I can tell you’ve gotten hornier in your writing considering you just had me ‘switch masters’ to be yo-”

“S-stop! Please!”

“Okay, okay. Plenty more to write once you're in Markanda.”

The two stood up together, much to Kamala’s shock. Her body was no longer a facet of her mind, but someone else’s. The subtle influence of a woman overseas, far more powerful than her. Kamala could only take her suitcase and holding it tightly.

“My family…”

“Are already on their way there,” Carol reassured, much to Kamala’s shock, “Come on, I wasn’t going to let them miss this! We wanted you to get on the plane with them to their ‘surprise holiday to Barbados’. But I know that you were worried the mutant scanners would tag you. That’s why I’m here to pick you up, okay?”

There had been so many times in her youth that she’d wished Captain Marvel would come for her. That a hero would tell her how special she was and let her meet so many others. This was not that dream, even with the sweet nothings of hope that were whispering in her mind.

“UNIDENTIFIED MUTANT DNA DETECTED. UNIDENTIFIED MUTANT DNA DETECTED.”

The voice boomed from outside her house’s walls, echoing off of all corners from the sheer volume of the voice. Even making the unbreakable glowing hero flinch in surprise.

“S-Sentinels?!” Kamala panicked, “H-how?! My DNA is registered! A-and you’re not a mutant, are you?!”

The blonde shook her head with an annoyed frown, “Not that I…. oh. Oops.”

“...oops?”

Her glowing hand reached down and scooped up some dry white liquid that had been leaking from her pussy. A sheepish look on her face as Kamala’s world fell apart around her. “Hehe, sorry Kamala. I guess I forgot about all of Mark’s DNA growing inside me right now.” The younger woman just stared in horror as her mentor licked up the semen from her own fingers.

All her neighbors now knew she was a mutant because Carol had slutted it up too recently to care. More than likely her childhood home would be levelled to the ground any moment now, due to Mark’s DNA being on the premises. It was all over.

“Anyway, much more motivation to get moving, right?” The ex-military officer beamed, grabbing Kamala’s suitcase and reaching out her hand to the brown girl, “But, if you really don’t want to, then I’ll just go destroy the Sentinels and be on my way. Mark won’t like it, but I have ways of raising his mood~ Still, I’d really like you to come with me, Kamala. What do you say?”

So much future in one single reached out hand. Carol may even respect her opinion if she said no, but at this point… maybe there was more value in saying yes…

---

The tour had been extensive and a little exhausting.

After flying her miles and miles to the tiny secure nation and making her get dressed into her hero costume, Carol was so excited to show her protégé around every single room and person in the whole Palace.

So many happy faces of maids in no clothing, so many masked naked men with cocks in pouches, so many heroes that had wanted to fight for the future now lazily lounging or growing something in their bellies for 'Master Mark'. Every turn another depraved sight, every corner another perversion, every second another twist of logic that she had only seen on the darkest of late night web searches. Her family had also already been turned. Now living happily in the suburbs, living with another family without a single word of complaint. Her brother had already found a Markandan wife!

For all intents and purposes, Markanda was a utopia for many. Even the cuckolded men had seemingly found a mental place of happiness, and Kamala wasn’t one to kink shame. All of it had a layer of dread for the young mutant/inhuman hybrid. Yet… there was a struggle in her denying some other emotion she dare not acknowledge.

Sure, she’d internally geeked out about meeting a few heroes, but when most of them were naked it was kinda difficult.

How could she be excited about meeting the sexy cajun Gambit while he was lounging by the pool in only swim trunks when Carol ordered him to remove his clothing and pathetically wank into Wasp's mouth?

After so much, Kamala's emotions were shot. Placidly following along with the tour knowing any minute she'd be just another piece of the furniture. Another prize for Mark. The fact she wasn't just another **** to deal with... and the little voice in her that kept mentioning how hot the whole experience was kept getting a little too loud.

The tour ended when Kamala followed Carol inside a huge empty white room and with a bright smile was told, “And here’s where you’ll get to spend most of your time!”

It was featureless. Like a void. Even the door had disappeared behind them, and the floor seemed almost etherial in its existence. The inhuman mutant was just spinning around in nothingness to try and find at least a landmark.

“Uhh, why?" She questioned after a few moments of confusion, "Where am I?”

Carol just beamed, in more than one meaning, keeping her hands on her hips while not replying.

It was the man who had put his fingers on her shoulders that spoke back to her.

“Oh, this? This is my new Danger Room.”

How had she missed him while spinning? Kamala could only theorise briefly that it was more psychic influence, though it was far from the biggest concern in the ocean of panics and fears that were crashing into her.

The voice was all too familiar to the girl who had watched all the ‘Avengers Disassembled’ tapes on repeat so many times.

Mark Williams. And he was touching her skin directly.

“The X-Men have been such prudes, keeping this Shiar technology away from us all.” He spoke calmly and carefully, playing with her neck by massaging it, already making her enjoy it more than she'd want to, “And using it for just training? Yawn, bore, snore. So I’ve repurposed it for having some fun~ That’s why I wanted you now, Kamala Khan.”

Something about him saying her name made her heart beat faster. Maybe he was already pumping her full of new commands, or his psychics had been remoulding her from the start. But it was undeniable in Kamala’s heart that Mark was an attractive man with a womb lowering penis of intense proportions. “Y-you do?”

“Yes, you see, we are of a kind.” He said continuing to keep skin contact up but instead walking with her hand in hand. “Sure, my people may be in your mind, but I've instructed them not to change your emotions. Your feelings? That little ball of heat you've been growing down there? That's all you, Kamala. Rare that I get to meet someone as perverse to the possibilities as me. But here we are."

That final nail in the coffin, the truth coming out right in front of Carol, she had never felt so ashamed. This tyranical teen had compared them, and she feared he may be right...

"But let's really seal the deal, shall we? You also think heroes are just toys to be played with. Action figures for our erotic amusement. While you write fan fiction, with my powers I make those scenarios real. But now, we can work together. With my Avengers Show gone, I need a new source of entertainment to stream to the world, and to have some fun with in my off time. With your mind unlocked, free of burdens called 'restraint', you may be the only other one who can play with my toys all you like in my Danger Room. Show me your erotic fanfiction, Kamala.”

It all sounded… amazing.

Behind the blue mask, Kamala's eyes were sparkling with ideas. A place where she could free to live out all the fantasies she'd always had? Not just getting heroes to do things in her mind, but in real time using the most sophisticated technology in the galaxy...

"I... I... you'll really let me do that?" She asked, already her feet were so excited they were doing little hops. Mark's smile was something she'd wanted to be aimed at her, but now she could make him proud! "Yes! Yes, I'll make the best erotic fanfiction come to life for you, Mark! It's everything I ever dreamed..."

With a clap of his hands, Mark looked just as eager to get started, “Wunderbar! To make sure you're absolutely on board, Captain Concubine will be your first subject.” He pointed to the woman still floating in the room, waving back at them happily, “Just say 'Computer' then tell it what you want, and it shall appear.”

“Computer! I want Carol Danvers to get fucked by tentacles!”

Opening up from the ground like demons, large green vines shot out and wrapped around her old mentor immediately. She tried to fight back, but the tentacles were too strong for even her. They caught her glowing wrists and ankles, spreading her far to enter her holes just as quickly. It wasn't long before Carol was having to moan out past a wriggling tentacle that had gone around her neck and into her mouth, while the others were penetrating her pussy and asshole.

Mark whistled, very impressed with the show already, “Wow. Frame 1 input right there. You didn’t even hesitate to start masturbating! Restraint really held your pervert side back, didn’t it?”

The thumping of need in Kamala's slit made her almost miss what he said. Ms. Marvel's pants had already fallen as far as she had, with her embiggened fingers penetrating herself as fast as she could.

“Thank you, Master Mark. I will not let you down!” She nodded briefly at him before returning to shlick at Carol.

"Good girl, just remember you can change the location too."

“Computer! Now show me my bedroom and have Carol getting railed by a futa version of me!” So many fantasies lay dormant that were now coming out in full ****. Captain Concubine changed gears just as quick, thumping her rear back against the naked Kamala clone while they fucked exactly as the real ex-Champion dreamed. "C-computer! G-give me a dildo to enjoy this, please! And let Mark have naked and eager versions of Riri Williams and Viv Vision to fuck!"

It was truly hard not to be impressed.

She'd already seemingly learned enough about his new culture that she could pick out two of the last few heroes that he hadn't gotten his grubby mitts on for Mark to enjoy. Two of her closest friends on The Champions.

The curly haired tech genius and the green haired tech were licking both sides of his cock within moments. All while the dark skinned author started thumping her ass to the rhythm of her clone in front of her. The perversion was delicious, spicy, and so personal. Kamala was literally crafting her own moral downfall in front of Mark's eyes, and he was loving every moment of it.

"Computer! Add in some dialogue about how much she disappointed me! Make Carol a masochist for it!"

"You were supposed to be the best of us!" Fake Kamala growled in anger, slapping Carol hard as she didn't even need to fake being masochistic for it, "Look at you! So much for showing how strong women can be... you're a slut! A whore! Nothing more than trash to be jizzed into!"

"YES! YES! OH GODDD!!"

Mark could see Ms. Marvel testing the waters with each order. Generating tentacles to see how strong the room was, generating her bedroom and fake versions of real people, then trying to change the real person in the room's mental state. Each built off the last to show the calculating Kamala exactly what she'd need to do as his writer.

He just sat back and watched her work Carol even more. Making her more sensitive to keep her cumming. Changing the location to the International Women's Convention to prove to all how far she'd fallen. Summoning the real Monica Rambeau and another fake Kamala to fuck her.

But there was something Mark wanted her to understand deeply first.

Though he'd been enjoying the fake versions of her teammates, Mark decided he wanted the real thing. Pushing past them to where his new playmate was sitting while enjoying the view.

"Don't mind me." He said, grabbing the dildo in Kamala's pussy and tossing it away. Then climbing behind her on the chair she'd kept from her bedroom construct, effortlessly getting the heroine to sit on his naked lap and wrapping his arms around her while he enjoyed the gaming chair, "Just keep writing."

She gulped, "R-right... Computer, I-I want to see C-Carol and Monica as a French Maids kissing now..."

"Ohh, good choice." Mark hummed, fingering the heroine hard and fast as her mentor was magically changed. His cock still a diamond that leant into her back, pulsing with need as it was cupped by her butt cheeks. "Do you remember when I had The Avengers act as my servants for a week?"

"Y-you had Steve Rogers be your footstool..." Kamala hummed back.

"That's right. Always nice to meet a fan." He chuckled, the vibrations of his voice making that titanic pole bounce against her so tantalisingly. "Did you ever wonder about the reason they fell? The cock that destroyed a nation?"

"...yes."

"Hehe, I'll show you."

Kamala had never had sex before. There had been close calls, crushes, and creative team-ups, but having only been eighteen for a few months, she was still worried about her parents approving.

Somehow, she knew that they'd be supportive of Mark picking Ms. Marvel up by the waist and sliding her thoroughly soggy pussy onto his massive, hero conquering cock.

"Nn!" She squeaked before suddenly relaxing, "S-sorry! I-I need a second to adjust!"

"Hm? You're looser than I thought..."

She shook her head at him, "I... I have stretching powers. I'm just, rearranging myself a bit... s-see?" He did. Kamala's cunt began constricting, going from open mansion to constrictive bungalow in just a short space of time. The boiling hot, dripping, besotted walls of her slit now gripping onto him as tight as a hand could grip him. Wriggling just as much as Mystique could with her powers.

"Nice~ I like a girl who can get her freak on. Fuck yourself on my dick."

The two elder Marvels were still just making out in their skimpy outfits as Kamala began to follow orders in front of them. Mark loved fucking amateur perverts, it was like he could become the mentor that she'd always secretly needed. The dildo and mind moulding had made her so ready for him, so Kamala was able to gush more than just her heart for once as she rose and fell on the King's codpiece. The vibrations it sent through her were so electrifying, even with the ability to stretch it was like he was pushing her insides to their limit. Only able to constrict her innards so much before his massive girth pushed her back out again, stimulating her to breaking point with each thrust he made her perform.

"C-Carol! Monica! Come over here a-and help Mark fuck me!" Kamala ordered, taking the words right out of the white man's mouth.

They obeyed quickly, flying over to help support the younger Marvel. Letting her wrap stretched arms around their necks as they in turn helped push her booty down onto Mark with growing intensity.

"You're so good at taking Mark, Kamala!" Carol cheered, "Much better than even I was!"

"And me. Having stretching powers is going to make you the talk of the town. I wonder if Shuri will try and replicate your powers?"

"AHHH!! SHUT UP AND K-KISS ME YOU DUMB IDIOTS!"

They truly were dolls to her now. Heroic action figures, built only for her pleasure. Mark was perhaps the last real thing that would penetrate the walls of the Danger Room for Kamala. And she realised that she needed to keep the fantasies more towards his amazing coolness, because of how real it was. She would spend the rest of her life just having as much debasing smutty fun as she wanted, shoving her tongue into Carol's throat with little care for her breathing before doing the same to Monica.

Mark couldn't be happier, treating her to the first of many potential creampies as she screamed loudly into the void.

---

“Computer! I want a College AU! Mark just got a new mutant power he doesn’t realise he has, that makes him an alpha male of whatever group he’s a part of. All of the men fear him, all the women want to breed with him, but they’re fighting his control!”

"She's settling in well." Remarked Jean in the control room, "Nobody outside of Markanda can tell how the streams are being made. Some think it's AI generated, or Deep Fakes. It won't reach as many main stream eyes until we reveal it's us, but the amount of perverts we'll manage to sway is innumerable."

Mark watched on as his little compatriot made her little fun worlds to play in. Sitting on her director's chair with Carol lapping up her lap, with the fake version of himself waltzing through the scene and immediately making a name for himself with the 'teacher'. Today being played by Emma Frost, who looked like she was growing hotter by the second by his presence.

The streams of these fictional worlds would power his powers for years to come. They'd flood the market with porn, altering the world with his subliminal messaging.

All thanks to his new 'Mistress Marvel'.